


Stuck on your heart

by iamtheenemy (Steph)



Series: Coda series [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode Season 4 Episode 6: Open Mic, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 02:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/pseuds/iamtheenemy
Summary: “Thank you!” Patrick said again, beaming at the applause from the crowd, looking so handsome with that stupid acoustic guitar still strapped to him. Was it hot in here? It felt hot to David all of a sudden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had two ideas for codas to this extremely inspiring episode, and instead of choosing between them, I decided to just indulge my id and write them both. So these are two unconnected tags to the episode, and you can pick the one that you like the best.

“Thank you!” Patrick said again, beaming at the applause from the crowd, looking so handsome with that stupid acoustic guitar still strapped to him. Was it hot in here? It felt hot to David all of a sudden. “Now that we got me out of the way, everyone give it up for Bob, who is going to perform some of his original poetry!”

The applause was significantly less raucous as Bob lumbered up to the stage holding a thick stack of papers in his hands.

“Settle in folks, this is going to be awhile,” Bob said by way of introduction.

“Oh _god_ ,” David said faintly, horrified in the tiny section of his brain that could think about anything besides Patrick making his way over to David through the modest crowd. 

He stood in front of David, a tiny smile on his face. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” David responded, unable to meet Patrick’s eyes. He looked up at the lights on the ceiling and then down at his hands, his fingers twisting nervously.

“Oh, Patrick,” his mother gushed from next to him. David had somehow forgotten that she was there. “That was wonderful. You have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rose,” Patrick answered sincerely, shifting his gaze to her for a moment before looking back at David.

He cleared his throat and tried to come up with something aloof and flirty, but he couldn’t seem to push any sound past his lips.

“David?” Patrick asked.

“Uh-huh,” David answered quickly.

“David, are you blushing?” Patrick asked, and his grin turned teasing in a way that David was thankful for because it gave him something to grab onto that wasn’t the way his whole body felt both heavy and weightless at the same time, a bright, complicated series of emotions he was currently refusing to name making his stomach flutter.

He shook his head vigorously. “No, nope. I don’t blush. My olive complexion doesn’t allow for it.”

“Well, your olive complexion is looking a little pink right now,” Patrick responded.

“You lied to me,” David said, plowing right past that statement.

Patrick’s smile widened. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“It was a lie of omission,” David insisted. “You didn’t tell me you could actually sing.”

Patrick took a step closer to him, and replied, “If yesterday I had said to you, ‘David, don’t worry, I’m pretty good at this’ -- would you have believed me?”

David narrowed his eyes at him a moment before conceding, “Probably not.”

“Patrick, you’ll have to forgive my son,” Moira interjected. “He isn’t used to one of his paramours doing something for him without it leading to shame and regret.”

David groaned. “Yes, mother, we all understood the subtext of this conversation.”

“I actually _didn’t_ pick up on that, so thank you,” Patrick responded.

“Ok!” David said. “I need a minute.”

He walked briskly into the back room, only to have Patrick follow right behind him. David wheeled around on him.

“When I said I needed a minute, I meant alone,” he said, pacing across the floor and fiddling with one of his silver rings.

Patrick still looked altogether too gleeful. “If you think I’m letting you walk away from me right now, you’re crazy.”

And _that_ did not help his stomach situation _at all_.

“Gloating is extremely unattractive,” he snapped, a clear lie based on the evidence standing in front of him.

“Ah,” Patrick said, “I think I’ll let myself indulge just this once.”

David rolled his eyes, mostly at himself, and then stomped his foot on the ground and forced himself to stop pacing and face Patrick. 

“Well. In this particular case, it might be warranted,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Patrick asked, and took immediate advantage of David’s stillness by crowding him against the wall. “I mean, I made my boyfriend blush, can you blame me for gloating? And were those tears I saw while I was singing?”

David place his hands over Patrick’s shoulders and let himself get tugged closer to him. “Ok, no, I draw the line at tears. It must have been the lighting.”

“I see,” Patrick said, and then leaned up and met David’s lips in a brief, searing kiss. When he pulled away, he stepped back and brushed his hands over the shoulders of David’s sweater. “You know, you didn’t actually tell me if you liked the song.”

David pushed him lightly and huffed. “Yes, I loved the song. You know I loved it.”

“It’s nice to hear you say it though,” Patrick answered. The way his grin had softened, all the teasing gone and just happiness remaining, inspired David to more honesty, almost against his will.

“It was beautiful, Patrick,” he said. “And the arrangement…?”

“Something I’ve been tinkering with for a while,” Patrick said. “That song makes me think of you.”

David’s heart stuttered in his chest at the confirmation that this wasn’t a song Patrick had already had prepared, that he had put it together specifically for David. “Ok. Well, um...that’s...nice.”

“I think the lighting is doing that thing again.”

“Shut up,” David said, and hid his hot face in Patrick’s shoulder, feeling Patrick’s hand cup the back of his neck.

“You’re very inspiring, David,” Patrick added, just _insisting_ on saying these things he knew would get to him. 

“I said _shut up_ ,” David repeated into the material of Patrick’s thin black shirt, then after a moment, he continued, “But maybe you could…”

“What?” Patrick asked. He pulled back to look at David’s eyes. “Maybe I could what?”

David shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “You could, like, I don’t know, maybe record the song as an audio file? So I could, like, listen to it...sometime...if I felt the urge.”

“Yeah?” Patrick asked, and his smile was incandescent, irresistible, impossible not to return.

“Yeah, I mean, if you wanted,” David said.

“I could do that,” Patrick agreed. 

“Good,” David said, and then they were kissing again, David still willingly trapped by Patrick's body, and Patrick’s hands on the small of his back, pulling him closer.

“Since my son and his beau seem to be indisposed at the moment, I’ll be taking over hosting duties tonight.” Moira’s voice rang out clearly, amplified by the microphone.

David and Patrick broke apart abruptly. 

“Nope,” David said, frantically fixing his hair.

“I’m coming!” Patrick called out, flying out of the back room and back into the fray.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a much more self-indulgent tag, so thanks for allowing me to get this all out.

David took the opportunity, as Patrick was introducing Bob to the audience, to slip out of the store, ignoring his mother’s voice trying to call him back. 

It had to say something about David’s mental stability that he went from joyously happy to being on the verge of a panic attack in the five seconds between the last strains of Patrick’s song and the applause dying down. But he just needed some time to freak out and maybe throw up before he could face Patrick again.

The cool air hit his face, and he took a deep breath.

“David?” He looked up to see Stevie walking down the sidewalk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Thank god,” David said, grabbing her arm and dragging her around the side of the building. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, jogging to keep up with his longer legs.

“If you’re not going to be here to help me through the most important moments in my life, then what’s the point in even having you?” he snapped.

“Most important…” she repeated and then gasped. “Did he already sing? I missed it? Oh, come on, I’m only ten minutes late! What happened? Was it terrible? Did he sing Savage Garden?”

“No, he didn’t...wait, what’s wrong with Savage Garden?” David asked.

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re like this. What did he sing?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” David hissed. The sound of the front door opening briefly filled the night with the strains of Bob’s terrible beat poetry, and David pulled Stevie further back.

“What do you mean? Of course it matters if it embarrassed you this…” She stopped and stared at him as he paced back and forth, a smile dawning.

“What?” he asked snippily. “What is that face you’re making?”

“You're not upset because Patrick embarrassed you. That’s your constipated _feelings_ face.” She pointed a finger at him, and David’s eyes widened in alarm.

“ _Constipated_...” he repeated.

“He was _good_ ,” Stevie realized. “Ugh! I can’t believe I missed it. So what I’m getting from you is that Patrick played his guitar and sang you a song, and you fell for it like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert.”

“Are we still making Justin Bieber references?” David asked tersely.

“That wasn’t a denial,” Stevie pointed out.

“You…!” David deflated, putting his head in his hands. “Yes, yes, I fell for it. It was lovely, alright? He’s wonderful.”

“And now you’re out here losing your shit because you have a gorgeous, perfect boyfriend who wants to serenade you with love songs,” Stevie concluded. “Wow, your life seems really hard.”

“Ok, well, I don’t know why I thought talking to you would help me,” David said.

“Me either,” Stevie replied.

“I just need _one thing_ ,” David said. “Just _one thing_ wrong with him, Stevie. Then I can breathe again. Because this is...I am _suffocating_ right now.” He fanned his hands in front of his face to try and calm down.

Stevie blinked at him, and seemed to realize he was telling the truth. “His clothes,” she said.

“What?” David asked.

“You wanted something wrong with him, so. His clothes.”

“Ok, I am the last person on Earth who would defend poly-cotton blends, but have you _seen_ what those shirts do for his forearms?”

“Point taken,” Stevie admitted. “Tea.”

“Tea?” he repeated.

“You hate tea,” she said.

He shook his head. “I don’t _hate_ tea.”

“Uh, yes you do. You told me,” Stevie answered.

“I disagree with the flavor, and I find it offensive when the little leaves and bits slip out of the bag and _infect_ the cup, but I wouldn’t say I _hate_ tea.”

“Well, Patrick only drinks tea, which means that you must be able to taste it on him when you two kiss,” Stevie said.

“Sure, but it isn’t bad when I’m kissing him. It’s actually nice. That’s out too,” David said.

“He’s short,” Stevie tried.

“ _Excuse_ me,” David said. 

“Jake and Sebastien were both taller than you,” Stevie said. “I know you were into it.”

“Patrick’s strong. He’s got those shoulders and his _hands_ , Stevie. Have you seen them? And just now they were _strumming a guitar_. Like, how is that fair? Anyway, I don’t care how tall he is. That’s _insulting_ ,” David said.

Stevie rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you tell me you once dumped a guy because you didn’t like his haircut?”

David scoffed. “ _Once_.”

“Ok, you’ve dumped _multiple_ people because you didn’t like their haircuts. How is that any different from being too short?” she asked. “You can change a haircut.”

“I…um...” David stuttered. “I…”

Stevie stepped closer to him and pressed a finger to his chest. “I think the problem is that you see all of the things wrong with Patrick, but they don’t matter to you because of your _feelings_.”

“You need to stop saying ‘feelings’ like that, with that emphasis. _Feeeeeeelings_ ,” David said.

“But I’m right,” Stevie said. “You have a guy you’re really happy with.”

David splayed his arms out. “Do I look happy right now?”

“Yes!” Stevie said. “You just wear it weird.”

“No, you’re wrong, because if I’m happy and he’s perfect, then it’s going to be _my_ fault!” David cried.

“What is?” Stevie asked.

“Our break up!” David said. “When we break up, it’s going to be because of me, because of my neuroses and my…all of this.” He waved his hands around his body. “Oh god,” he said with dawning horror. “I ran out on him after he sang that song. This could be it right now. This could be what makes him break up with me.”

Stevie shook her head. “Nah, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Why not?” David demanded.

Stevie cut her eyes over his shoulder, and he swung around and saw Patrick standing at the end of the sidewalk watching him.

“Oh, fuck me,” David said, covering his eyes.

“I am _so_ good,” Stevie said, patting him on the shoulder as she walked away.

“You are a _monster_ ,” he called at her back.

David let himself fall against the brick wall behind him, eyes still closed, as he heard Patrick approach, his footsteps stopping right in front of David. Patrick’s hands went around his wrists and tugged them away from his face. 

“What if we just don’t break up?” Patrick asked him. “Then no one will be the one who ruins it.”

David snorted. “That’s not how it works with my relationships.”

“That’s not how it works with anyone’s relationship, until it does. Well, what about this instead? Are you planning on breaking up with me today?” Patrick asked.

“No,” David said.

“Me neither,” Patrick responded, easing something inside of David. “So why don’t we go back in and enjoy not being broken up? And then we can do it again tomorrow. And the day after that.”

“Mmm, alright.” David coughed and wiped his hands on his pants. “I liked your song,” he admitted. “It made me…”

“Constipated, I heard,” Patrick said, squinting at him in a way that showed he was clearly trying not to smile.

“Oh, so you were here for a while, just listening. Just eavesdropping,” David said to cover up his embarrassment.

“Of course I was. I sang a romantic song to my boyfriend, and he ran away from me like his hair was on fire. What else was I going to do?” Patrick asked.

“I...reluctantly admit that you might have a point,” David said.

“Well, thank you, I appreciate that concession,” Patrick said with a wry raise of his eyebrow. 

“But, as a side note,” David said as Patrick took his hand, “you should never put an open flame anywhere near my hair, because all this product is extremely flammable, so…”

“Noted,” Patrick said. They walked in silence a moment, and then Patrick said, “So that thing about my hands, is that something you’d be interested in exploring at some point…?”

“Yes, please,” David said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been following this little series! Unfortunately, my lazy, long weekend is over today, so I probably won't be getting more of these tags out with the same frequency, though I do plan to continue writing them.


End file.
